


Touch 'n' Go

by apollojusticeforall



Series: Tactile [4]
Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Blood, Bones swears a lot (as he should), M/M, Touch-Starved, the casual intimacy of touch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-01
Updated: 2020-08-01
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:35:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25654510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/apollojusticeforall/pseuds/apollojusticeforall
Summary: By now, Leonard really should know better. Jim Kirk always found a way to get what he wanted.
Relationships: James T. Kirk/Leonard "Bones" McCoy
Series: Tactile [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1812097
Comments: 12
Kudos: 79





	Touch 'n' Go

By now, Leonard really should know better. Jim Kirk always found a way to get what he wanted. He could wrap the whole galaxy around his little finger and most of the damn occupants would thank him for it. He was sharp-tongued, stubborn-minded, and Starfleet’s strong-jawed, golden-eyed poster boy with perfect hair and a winning smile. 

When the  _ Enterprise _ got into trouble, as it too often did, Jim could flash his captain’s persona and talk his way out, eight times out of ten. He could broker peace between factions that had been at war for thousands of years or convince his kidnappers to let him just walk away because it was “the right thing to do.” Hell, Leonard had even seen him talk a computer into blowing itself up. On multiple occasions. Jim never shied from an intellectual challenge, and he loved any chance he got to show he was more than just a pretty piece of ass. Enemy commanders playing mind games? Jim would pick up the rules in a snap and beat them with a clever twist of their own tricks.

One out of ten times, though, if using his smart mouth didn’t work, he resorted to his fists. Jim wasn’t big, but he was quick on his feet and had a pretty mean hit if he connected right. He also had a few . . . creative ways of throwing himself at his attacker. He preferred outsmarting his opponents, but if the situation derailed into what he called “aggressive negotiations,” that didn’t stop him from enjoying the game. After emerging victorious from physical combat with some brute twice his size, Jim would return to the ship with a black eye and bloody knuckles and most, if not all, of his shirt ripped off, and Leonard would scold him for being a reckless adrenaline junky as he fixed him up while Jim grinned at him between his bloody teeth.

And the other times, when Jim couldn’t talk or punch his way out? He used his hands for an alternative method, one that also included a bedroom-eyes stare and a lazy-Sunday smile. He knew he was charming and attractive, but he only seemed to see that as another weapon in his arsenal, another way to win. If a punch wouldn’t work, he tried a shoulder caress. Even the most delusional, power-hungry fanatic spilled all the dirty details of their evil schemes as soon as Jim Kirk started kissing their neck. When he returned after one of these affairs, Leonard always knew what he’d done before even checking his body chemistry, just from the way Jim set his shoulders and the self-satisfied smirk twisting his lips.

It made sense that Jim enjoyed solving problems with his hands. After all, he was a touchy-feely kinda guy. He thrived on physical contact, and not just in extreme circumstances. He interacted with his world and the people in it all through touch—praise, affection, concern, reassurance, anything he needed to communicate. 

With his crew, he kept it simple—patting a shoulder, squeezing an arm, even bumping an elbow. The more familiar he was with someone, the more he touched them. It was casual and natural, and on first glance didn’t seem like a conscious choice. The farther up the chain of chain of command someone was, the more accustomed they were to Jim’s gestures of physical affection, to the point where if Jim  _ didn’t _ start his shift with giving them each a hug, the senior bridge crew would be insulted. 

Well, maybe everyone except Spock. He and Jim had a unique relationship in touch compared to all of Jim’s other interactions, but thinking about it too long made Leonard’s head hurt, so he stopped.

Because Jim was his best friend in the entire vast, expansive universe—god help him—Leonard was never fazed when Jim would hang all over him like some kind of rope off a cliff. It happened everywhere—Jim slinging an arm around his shoulder, Jim slipping a hand into his, Jim resting his chin on his shoulder, Jim knocking his elbow or grabbing his arm or just completely wrapping his arms around him, and Leonard would sigh but let Jim stand there and hold him for as long as he needed.

Obviously, Jim was so generous with how he communicated through touch because that's what he wanted from others. Each time someone initiated contact with him, his eyes lit up a little bit brighter, as if his whole body could start glowing if he ever reached his tactile threshold. Leonard couldn’t always help Jim with his command decisions or ease the rest of his worries, but he could do his best to fulfill this need. So he also patted Jim’s shoulder or grabbed his wrist or went up to the bridge just to lean on his chair so Jim could bump his head into his shoulder or rub his hand. He tried to find little excuses to touch him, give him back a fraction of what he gave to everyone else, and Jim would always smile, soft and dreamy, like he knew what Leonard was doing and appreciated it all the more.

But sometimes, it still wasn’t enough.

* * *

Anybody in the galaxy who had heard the name Jim Kirk had also heard the rumors about his promiscuity. Like all the best rumors, they were mostly false, but had an inkling of truth to them. Did he go into shore leave looking to sleep in a different person’s bed each night? No. But he loved meeting new people and learning about them, and if someone offered to get to know him in the biblical sense, he didn’t turn them down without good reason. 

What none of the rumors got right was Jim’s code of honor. That part about Jim only using sex as a way to win the game? Yeah, that was only half true as well. He knew how to take “no” for an answer, he didn’t come on to anyone who wasn’t already interested, and he wasn’t the type to leave before morning. More often than not, it was his late-night partner who wasn’t interested in extending their short-lived relationship past the break of dawn. 

In truth, Jim loved more deeply and more genuinely than anyone else in the galaxy. He had so much love to give that he seemed to fall a little bit in love with everyone he met. Someone’s eyes or their laugh or the excited way they talked about a certain subject was enough to spark his interest, if only fleeting. He was an incurable people pleaser, and that was probably why he was so lonely. He hid it well, but sometimes Leonard caught him with a faraway look in his eyes, just a glimpse of something dark and empty that lurked beneath Jim’s series of masks. 

Jim had his standards, and his limits. He never got involved with anyone in the  _ Enterprise _ crew, despite how much of his conversational pieces could be interpreted as flagrant flirting. Plenty of young crewmembers transferred aboard nervous about the rumors they had heard, but they were usually quickly reassured of their captain’s integrity. He showed his affection for them through casual physical gestures, but when he needed intimacy beyond professional constraints, he went to outside sources.

Okay, so Jim’s decision not to sleep with his crew was less of a personal policy and more of a semi-firm guideline. While he adhered to it strictly for most of the 430 crewmembers under his charge, that particular rule did  _ not _ apply to certain of his senior officers.

Most times Jim meandered into sick bay, he was looking for someone to talk to who he hadn’t already seen on the bridge for the past eight hours. Sometimes though, Jim would come down and make some dumb joke about a hard day’s work, and the next thing Leonard knew he was shoved up against the wall in his office with Jim’s mouth crushed against his. 

Every so often, Jim showed up at his quarters late at night. Usually, he was just interested in a drink (because everyone knew that the CMO and Chief Engineer kept an extensive fine liquor stash in their fresher cabinets), and after a few hours of bitching about the Disaster of the Day, he would stumble back to his own quarters. The nights he wanted more, Leonard could tell. It was all in the tilt of his head, the sharpening of his smile, the gleam in his eyes of a different sort of hunger. 

He had witnessed Jim’s seduction routine as often as he’d been on the receiving end of it. Of course, he wasn’t naive enough to think he was the only one on the ship Jim went to when he got in one of his moods. He had a few guesses who the others were, but he never asked Jim about them. He didn’t need to know, and he didn’t really care, that part never bothered him. What he did wonder about, his one irrational insecurity that sometimes escaped from where he locked it in the back of his mind, was why Jim kept coming back.

He told himself it was all for Jim’s benefit, helping a friend out kinda thing, but he also couldn’t lie and say he didn’t benefit at all. Jim wasn’t the only one with needs. Some nights, although more rare, he went to Jim’s, towing a bottle of some of his most expensive bourbon. He usually had some form of pretense for being there, something like “celebrating another day of your idiotic ass staying alive” or even just “been a bitch-ass day.” Jim saw right through him, his hungry eyes sliced right through the layers Leonard cultivated so carefully around himself, right down to his beating red heart. 

It wasn’t always about sex. Some nights, Jim would stop by to chat and then fall asleep in Leonard’s bed with his uniform still on and his face pressed into Leonard’s shoulder. Some nights, Jim wouldn’t show up at all, but then Leonard would wake in the middle of the night with Jim curled against his back and an arm wrapped around his stomach.

They never talked about their “arrangement,” or what it meant to either of them. It was kind of understood that they were officers first, friends seconds, and whatever-this-was third. Still, it was there and it was theirs, and Leonard gradually found himself looking forward to the mornings he woke up and found that Jim Kirk had crawled into his bed once again.

* * *

The mission to Triannon was not one of the times Jim worked his way out of a mess by getting laid. One look at the gushing stab wound in his abdomen told the entire transporter room that exactly the opposite had happened. Jim stumbled off the transporter pad and would have landed face-first on the floor if Leonard hadn’t been there to catch him.

“Looks like the Triannons weren’t so keen on listening to your brilliant plan for peace,” Leonard said, one hand braced against Jim’s chest from where he sagged into him.

Jim’s head lolled against his shoulder. One of his eyes was nearly swollen shut, his hair was caked with dirt and something sticky and yellow, and his shredded shirt was held together by a few flimsy threads. “Nah, it went great. The Federation can welcome an enthusiastic new member.” He rolled his neck and groaned when his bones cracked. “Just had to beat their greatest warrior to do it.” He started to stagger towards the lift.

“The hell you think you’re going?” Leonard stopped him with a tug on his wrist. He slung Jim’s arm over his shoulder and dragged him in the opposite direction to sick bay.

Jim all but collapsed against him. “But I gotta report the good news.”

“Nuh-uh. Give Spock the conn while I piece you back together. Unless you want to bleed out all over the fucking bridge.”

“For once, I agree with the doctor.” Spock stepped off the transporter from where he had beamed up after Jim and hovered nearby. By contrast, his appearance was nearly immaculate, not a smooth hair out of place or a wrinkle in his crisp uniform. His face revealed no emotion at seeing the captain so badly beaten, but there was something wet shining in his dark eyes. “Your body requires immediate rejuvenation if you are to resume your level of efficiency, whereas mine is already quite recovered from our eventful negotiations.”

Leonard jabbed a finger at Spock. “Don’t think you’re off the goddamn hook either. I expect you to report to sick bay as soon as I’m done with him.”

“But as I did not participate in the confrontation, I do not require—”

“Like hell you don’t. You’re gonna let me clean up those bruises on your knuckles after I finished restoring our captain to his former glory.”

Spock did not offer a counterargument, but he tried to discreetly hide his hands behind his back.

“Don't worry Spock,” Jim slurred, still being supported only by Leonard's arm latched onto his wrist, “you’ll get your turn soon. The good doctor just wants me all to himself for a little bit.” 

Leonard met Spock’s gaze over the top of Jim’s head. He expressed his exasperation with an exaggerated eye roll, where Spock’s mouth merely twisted into what could be considered a frown. 

“Alright cowboy, come on now.” Leonard hauled him away as Jim giggled, delirious from an adrenaline high combined with excessive blood loss.

When they got to sick bay, Leonard shoved him onto a biobed, ignoring his garbled pleas of “Really, Bones, I’m fine. I just need a nap.”

Leonard poked him in the rips, just above the gaping stab wound. Jim hissed and swore at him. Leonard merely raised an eyebrow, point already proven.

Nurse Chapel dropped off a tray with a neat line of regenerators and clean towels. “Why Captain,” she said, eyeing his disfigured face, “have you had some work done? You look different today.” She tapped a finger against her lips. “I know. That’s a new shirt, isn’t it?”

Jim wiggled his eyebrows and flashed his signature smile. “How lovely of you to notice, Christine. I wore it just for my appointment today. Do you like it?”

Chapel hummed. “Yes, I think it brings out the bruises under your eyes.”

“I would ask you to kiss it better, but I think Lieutenant Uhura would object.”

Chapel glanced him over with minimal interest. “Actually, sir, I don’t think she has anything to worry about.”

“Don’t you have other patients, Nurse?” Leonard snapped.

Jim’s laugh was overtaken by a wet cough. “I like her. I want her to stay.”

“No, it’s alright. I’ll leave you two alone.” Chapel winked before exiting.

Leonard glared at his current burden—er, patient. “Stop flirting with my nurses, Jim.”

“I’d rather flirt with my doctor, but he’s no fun.”

“Watch it. Your doctor currently controls how fucked up your face is going to look for the rest of your life.”

“Oh, I’m counting on it.” Jim tilted his head and smiled up at him. “Are you offering to kiss me all better?”

Leonard ran this thumb over the blood coating Jim’s lower lip, then held his finger up for Jim to see. “I don’t think that would do you much good like this.”

“You never know until you try. Put a little of the ol’ scientific method behind it.”

“Why don’t you take your hypothesis to Spock and see what he thinks? You’ll probably get a twenty minute lecture on the illogic behind that contradictory science.” Leonard tried to examine his stab wound, but the scraps of his shirt were getting in the way. A quick tug and the rest of it was off.

Jim’s grin was absolutely shit-eating. “Believe it or not, I actually prefer your bedside manner.” He knocked a knee into Leonard’s thigh.

Leonard fixed him with his own signature scowl. “Do you ever fucking shut up?”

Jim laughed. “Thought you knew better by now.”

“Lord knows I should.” He pushed Jim down onto the biobed with a little more force than necessary, just enough to knock the wind out of him so he wouldn’t make another stupid comment about “bedside manner.” Jim only groaned at the resulting pain, and Leonard was finally able to get to work.

The wound was starting to clot, but the skin around it was purple and lumpy. Scanner revealed three cracked ribs and a punctured liver. Miracle that Jim had even been able to stand a minute ago. Jim winced as the osteo-regen moved his bones into their proper place, then sighed in relief when his muscles began to knit themselves back together. 

The vascular regen would provide him with new red blood cells, but the old ones were still banished to the outside of his body. Leonard took a clean towel and mopped up the blood on Jim’s stomach. When the regen finished closing the wound, he ran a hand over the new flesh-colored patch of skin, checking to make sure the regen did its job right. 

Jim caught him by the wrist and held his hand there. Jim’s eyes were closed, a dark, angry bruise shone on his cheekbone, and dried blood crusted his split lip, but he looked content, like he had fallen asleep. Leonard held that position for a bit, letting Jim drink in whatever it was he needed. 

Jim finally peeled open his good eye and looked at him, something hot burning in his gaze. Jim knew exactly how he looked, too—shirtless and sprawled on his back, peering up from under his eyelashes. If Leonard lingered too long, he could get lost in the ring of gold that surrounded Jim’s pupils, a color that glowed as brightly as hot embers on a summer night, or the stars rushing past the viewing deck. 

So he didn’t look too long. He tossed the towel soaked with Jim’s blood over on the counter. “Up,” he ordered. 

Jim sat up. He didn’t say anything, but his chin tilted expectantly. 

Leonard cupped Jim’s jaw and angled his face to the side. He took a handheld dermal regen to the bruises on his cheek, waiting while the skin turned from purple to flushed red back to light tan. 

Jim watched him the entire time, out of the corner of his good eye, and then through both when the puffy skin cleared. He watched how Leonard kept his hand on his jaw, how his little finger traced the regen’s path across his skin. Leonard leaned in a little closer, knowing Jim was tracking his every move. When the bruise was gone, he brushed his fingers lightly over the spot where it had disappeared, only this time it was less about checking his work and more about feeling Jim sigh beneath his hands. 

He shifted the regen so it was positioned over Jim’s split mouth, steadying his hand by pressing his thumb into the dried blood collected beneath his lower lip.

“You really should be more careful with that pretty face of yours,” he grumbled, still focused on the regen’s soft whir. “Soon enough, someone will make you permanently ugly.”

Jim grinned at him, teeth stained red. “But that’s what I have you for. Who else knows my good looks well enough to reconstruct me?”

“I’d say Spock, from how often you flutter your eyelashes at him.”

Before Jim could retort, Leonard placed a finger against his mouth. “Now shush. The regen doesn’t work when you’re talking.”

Jim kept his mouth shut, but his response danced in the gold flecks in his eyes.

The regen beeped, and Jim grabbed his wrist and kissed the center of his palm. “There. You’re all better.”

Leonard sighed. “That’s not how it works, Jim. Now gimme your hands.” He flipped Jim’s hand over and pressed the regen against his swollen knuckles. Then, he moved on to his other hand.

Jim examined his newly healed skin and held it up for Leonard to inspect. “See, it’s all clean. You can kiss it now.”

Leonard didn’t look up. “No.”

“Well, I simply  _ must _ do something to thank you for all your hard work in saving me, Doctor.” Jim cocked his head, and his face stretched into a slow, seductive smile.

“No.”

“I need to test my new mouth on  _ something _ .”

“No.”

“Bones, you’re a hard man to please.”

“Yep.” Leonard switched off the regenerator and started to put it away.

Jim stopped him with a hand on his hip. He scooted to the edge of the biobed and spread his legs apart, then maneuvered Leonard into the space between his knees. “I could still try, though.”

Leonard stared at him blankly. “You need to get back to the bridge.” But he didn’t move to push Jim away.

“They can wait five more minutes.” Jim massaged his thumb in a slow circle right above Leonard’s hipbone.

Leonard cupped Jim’s face in his hand and tilted his head back, looking right into the gold ring in his eyes. “Darlin’, you’re good, but not that good.”

“Is that a challenge?”

Leonard hummed. “More like a dare.”

Jim’s laugh bubbled out of him like the sun coming out from behind the clouds. He squeezed Leonard’s hip one last time before letting go. “Okay, later then.”

Leonard stepped back so Jim could hop down from the biobed. “Don’t count on it.”

Before he could stop him, Jim planted a quick kiss on his cheek. “I will.” He all but skipped out of sick bay.

Leonard rolled his eyes, grumbling about the black magic and blood sacrifices it took to keep one James T. Kirk alive and breathing, but he smiled to himself as soon as Jim was gone. 

Chapel reappeared just in time to catch him grinning like an idiot. “Oh I’m sorry, did you need a little more alone time?” 

Leonard swapped the smile for his most murderous glare, the one reserved especially for her when she did shit like this. “Fuck off, Chris.”

* * *

The day wasn’t over yet. The  _ Enterprise  _ suffered an explosion in engineering and an attack from an alien composed entirely of toxic gas before she even made it out of the star system. Leonard was so busy fixing burn wounds and handing out detox hypos that he didn’t even have time to pop up to the bridge to check on Jim. Not that he needed a babysitter (although he sure fucking acted like it sometimes), Leonard just worried a lot, and most of that worry was devoted to a certain starship captain with a savior complex and a death wish.

First chance he got where an alarm wasn’t blaring or a patient wasn’t going critical, he sank into his office chair and tipped his head back against the seat. Before he could settle into his wallowing, he was interrupted by a soft knock.

He closed his eyes and counted to ten. “Enter.” He expected to see Chapel with updated charts for Lieutenant M’Ress, whose Caitian biology had been especially affected by a direct blast from the gas alien. 

Instead, Jim strolled in. He looked good as new, not even a scratch or discoloration to tell that he had been beat to shit earlier that morning. Leonard allowed himself a small moment of pride while he admired his earlier handiwork.

Jim’s radiant smile complimented his healed face. “Long day?”

Leonard responded with a grunt.

Jim laughed softly and plopped down in the chair opposite him, appearing aloof, but his eyes were dark and laser-focused. Leonard recognized that look, the hungry glint. He knew exactly what Jim was looking for, and it sure as hell wasn’t medical assistance. Right now, he wasn’t sure if he was gonna give it to him or not. So he pulled up a report on his PADD to look busy.

Jim started with the head tilt, peering at him from under thick, golden lashes. “They say a doctor’s work is never done.”

“Who says that?” Leonard replied without looking up. He still wasn’t actually doing any paperwork. His PADD only contained a queue of documents he needed to work on, but Jim didn’t need to know that.

Jim apparently decided he wasn’t getting enough attention on the other side of the desk, so he stood up and sauntered closer. He looked over Leonard’s shoulder at the list on his PADD. “Seems like your doc queue says so.”

“‘Suppose it does.”

Jim planted his rear on the desk, dangerously close to squashing the PADD. “I had a really busy day, too. So many treaties to negotiate, star charts to plot, lives to save.” Jim actually took his captain’s duties very seriously, perhaps even too seriously at times. This was just another of the games he played—the back and forth, the teasing and tugging, the touch and go. He stretched absurdly, flailing an arm close to Leonard's face. “Got a prescription to help me unwind?”

Most days, Leonard wouldn’t bother putting too much effort into his objections, but dammit, he was tired. “I’m sure Mr. Spock would be happy to help you with that. Well, as happy as he can be, that is. Go annoy him for a change.”

Jim sighed dramatically. “I would, but he already retired for the night.” He placed his hands behind him and leaned back, tipping his head at a nonchalant angle. “Said something about requiring prolonged meditation.”

Leonard grunted. “What a shame. Guess you’re stuck with me then.” That nagging fear he kept stuffed in the back of his brain had wriggled its way forward—Jim didn’t actually want him, he just wanted an itch scratched. He tried to get back to his paperwork, but that task was proving difficult with Jim’s thigh right near where his hand needed to go. 

“Hey.” Jim toed at his knee, leaving a scuff mark down the front of his pants. “I’m not complaining.”

“Uh-huh,” Leonard grumbled.

“Bones, look at me.”

Jim’s voice had gone quiet, an audible change from his banter before, so Leonard indulged him, but not without the tiniest eye roll.

Jim was frowning at him, his ungodly handsome face pinched in concern. “What’s wrong?”

“Well, half the crew almost died, but didn’t, so everything else is fine.”

Jim raised his eyebrows. “That’s it? Nothing else is bothering you?”

“I said it was nothing.”

A beat of silence stretched between them. Jim tried a different approach. “I didn’t get to thank you.”

“For what?”

“For what? You saved my life today.”

Leonard sighed. “I wasn’t the one who saved your ass. You did that yourself.”

“You kidding? I got stabbed. I probably would’ve bled out on the bridge, like you said.”

“I did say that, didn’t I? Why don’t you ever listen to me?”

“I do. That’s why I’m still alive.”

Leonard rolled his eyes and tried to get back to his PADD.

“Hey.” Jim kicked him again. He waited until Leonard looked at him. “You know I need you, right?”

“I know.” And he did. He also knew how much he meant to Jim, but like how Jim needed to be reminded through touch, sometimes Leonard liked to be reminded, too.

Jim’s smile sharpened. “Of course, if you need some reassurance”—he braced his hands on the edge of the desk—“I could still do something”—leaned forward—“to show my”—and licked his lips—“appreciation.”

Back in the game, Leonard regarded him coolly. “Perhaps you could.”

Jim’s eyes wandered lower before sliding back up to his face, slick as ancient oil.

Before he could say something truly obscene though, Leonard leaned forward and kissed him, gentle at first. He did it part because he knew that soon Jim was about to start draping himself over his lap, and part just because he had really been wanting to all day. Jim pushed into him and opened his mouth wider. 

He ran a hand along Jim’s cheek before tangling his fingers in the hair at his neck, soliciting a hum from the back of Jim’s throat. He held Jim’s head in place for a few seconds, but from the way Jim’s mouth moved against his, it was clear who was actually setting the pace. Even when Jim wasn’t in command, he still was in control. Not that Leonard minded at all, because Jim was still the best damn kisser he had ever had the pleasure of meeting.

After a prolonged moment, he broke off and tried to lean back. Jim wrapped a hand around his wrist and pressed their foreheads together. Jim’s eyes were closed, and a soft, content smile lingered on his face. With his thumb rubbing serene circles into the inside of his wrist, Leonard didn’t question his sincerity.

“Not quite what I had in mind, but it’s a good start.”

“I know what you had in mind. I have paperwork.” Leonard let go and gently tugged his wrist from Jim’s grip.

The hungry glint had returned, golden rings lit up like beacons. It should be downright illegal for one man to have so many colors in his eyes. “What if you didn’t do it?”

Leonard arched an eyebrow. “Is that a direct order to neglect my ship’s duties,  _ Captain _ ?”

Jim opened his mouth to say something snappy, then changed his mind. “No, you actually need to finish those reports so I can submit them to Starfleet.” He pushed off from the desk and started towards the door.

“Jim.”

The door swooshed open, but Jim paused and looked back at him.

“I’ll be done in an hour. And I think I issued you a challenge earlier.” Leonard didn’t elaborate, but a pointed glance said the rest of the sentence for him.

Jim received the second half of his message and grinned. “So you did. I’ll see you in an hour, Doctor.” He turned to leave, but stopped again. “Oh, but I think I’ve changed my mind—I’d much rather take my time.” 

It was Leonard’s turn to tilt his head. “Is that a challenge for me?”

Jim’s smile could have illuminated the farthest reaches of the galaxy. “More like a dare.”

**Author's Note:**

> I know nothing about medical practices, much less those in the 23rd Century.
> 
> Thanks for reading! If you like TOS mckirk _at all _, please please please come talk to me on[tumblr](https://jamestfortitsoutkirk.tumblr.com/) so I'm not suffering in solitude.__


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